The Repentant Rake

    Christopher was moved. Even allowing for his brother's tendency to dramatise and exaggerate, he could see how shaken

    Henry was. The warning letter had left him thoroughly dazed. If and when the crisis blew over, it was possible that Henry might even start to mend his ways. That was another reason to come to his aid.

    'Do as I suggest,' said Christopher, 'then leave the rest to me. I'll not discuss this with anyone so your shame will not be noised abroad. Whatever you do, you must not give in to blackmail. It's a despicable crime and we'll catch the villain behind it.' He patted his brother's shoulder. 'Bear up. We'll come through this somehow.'

    'Will we?'

    'Of course.'

    Henry managed a pale smile of gratitude. Having shared his grim secret, he felt as if his load had been marginally lightened. Christopher was a younger brother who seemed, in many ways, much older than him. Where Henry was impetuous, Christopher was cool and objective. He was also an extremely resolute man. In the circumstances in which Henry now found himself, his brother was the ideal ally. Henry softened.

    'Forgive this whining self-concern,' he said with a gesture of apology.

    'I heard no whining.'

    'You have news of your own and all I can do is bury you up to the neck in my affairs. It's reprehensible on my part. What's this about a new commission?' His interest was genuine. 'In Northamptonshire, you say?'

    'Yes, Henry.'

    'How did you come by it?'

    'I was recommended by Elijah Pembridge.'

    'The bookseller?'

    'The very same,' said Christopher. 'Thanks to you, I was able to design his new shop and he was sufficiently pleased with it to pass my name on to a friend.'

    'Do I know the man?'

    'I doubt it. He was a colonel in Cromwell's army. He's been immured in the country for the last six or seven years and is only forcing himself to reside in London because he is looking to become a Member of Parliament.'

    'More fool him! What's his name?'

    'Sir Julius Cheever.'

    Henry was curious. 'Cheever? No relation of Gabriel Cheever, by any chance?'

    'Sir Julius could be his father, I suppose,' said Christopher. 'I know that he has a son called Gabriel but I also know that he's disowned him for some reason.'

    'Then it has to be the Gabriel I know.'

    'What makes you say that?'

    'No father would approve of such a son.'

    'Why not?'

    'Because Gabriel Cheever makes me look like the patron saint of chastity,' said Henry with a mirthless laugh. 'He's one of the most notorious rakehells in London.'

    'When do you intend to leave?' asked Susan Cheever.

    'In a day or so,' said her father. 'I've business in London.'

    'Where will you stay?'

    Sir Julius pulled a face. 'In Richmond.'

    'Lancelot is your son-in-law,' she told him with a note of mild reproach. 'You ought to make more of an effort to like him.'

    'I have difficulty liking Brilliana at times, so don't ask me to waste any affection on that blockhead of a husband.'

    'It was a good marriage for Brilliana. They're very happy together.'

    'How can any woman be happy with Lancelot Serle?' he demanded. 'Be honest, Susan. Would you accept a proposal from a posturing ninny like that?'

    She suppressed a smile. 'No, Father.'

    'Thank God I have one discerning daughter.'

    They were just finishing their meal in the dining room. It was a beautiful day and Sir Julius planned to spend the afternoon in the saddle, riding around the estate to see how his tenants were getting on in the hay fields. Though he had delegated most of the management duties to someone else, he liked to keep an eye on progress and knew that it always improved when he put in a personal appearance. Farming was what he knew best and loved most. Sir Julius needed to remind himself of that before he went off to the urban confines of London. He sipped his wine and looked fondly at Susan.

    'While we're on the subject,' he began, licking his lips, 'when are you going to follow your sister down the aisle?'

    She was dismissive. 'Oh, there's no hurry for that.'

    'Answer my question.'

    'I've answered it a dozen times already,' she replied. 'The time to get married is when I find someone whom I consider to be a worthy husband.'

    'You have plenty of willing suitors.'

    'Willing but unsatisfactory.'

    'Your standards are too high, Susan.'

    'Are you so eager to get rid of me?'

    'No,' he said. 'I'll miss you terribly if you go, but it would be wrong of me to stand in your way out of selfishness. Most young ladies of your age have a husband and children. Failing that, they are at least betrothed.'

    Susan's face tightened. 'I tried betrothal, Father. It was an ordeal.'

    'Only because you chose the wrong man.'

    'I seem to recall that he was chosen for me. That was the trouble. I was more or less talked into it by you and Mother. Not that I blame you entirely,' she went on. 'I take some responsibility. I liked Michael immensely but I could never love him and as it turned out, the feelings he professed to have for me were not as intense as he claimed.'

    'Forget him,' said Sir Julius briskly 'Michael Trenton was a mistake. I freely concede that. But there are dozens of more reliable young men in the county.'

    'I want more than reliability, Father.'

    'You need someone who can offer you security, Susan. That's the most important factor. We have to accept that I will not be here for ever.'

    Susan smiled. 'Then I insist on looking after you while you are here.'

    'Why not find someone to look after you for a change?' 'I will, Father. One day.'

    A maidservant came in to clear the table and brought that phase of the conversation to a natural end. Susan was grateful for the interruption. Questions about her lack of marital plans always made her feel slightly cornered. After one doomed betrothal, she was loath to enter too hastily into another. Suitors were tolerated but never encouraged. She had come round to the view that, if she' were to marry, her husband would live well away from the county of Northamptonshire.

    'How long will you be in London?' she asked.

    'Four or five days,' he said. 'A week at most.'

    'It will be very lonely without you.'

    'Then why not make the rounds of your many admirers?' he teased.

    'I think I would prefer to come with you, Father.'

    He was surprised. 'To London? Whatever for?'

    'To keep you company, for a start. And to have the pleasure of seeing Brilliana again. Yes,' she added as she saw him grimace, 'I know that you hate staying with them in Richmond but I enjoy it. Brilliana and I can take the coach into the city.'

    'Anything to get away from Lancelot!'

    'Stop being so unkind about your son-in-law.'

    'The man is insufferable.'

    'I promise to keep him well away from you. There,' she announced. 'Isn't that a good enough reason in itself to take me with you?'

    'It's a tempting offer, certainly.' He drained his glass of wine. 'I'll consider it.'

    'Thank you.' Susan tried to sound casual. 'Father, while you're in London, will you be seeing your architect at some point?'

    'Redmayne? Probably.'

    'Where does he live?'

    'Fetter Lane, I believe.'

    'Those sketches of his were remarkable.'